A Grain of Wheat by Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o Read Free Book Online Page A

village – in a week’s time?’
    Mugo’s throat was choked; if he spoke, he would cry. He shook his head and stared straight ahead.
    ‘He did not mention Karanja?’
    Again Mugo shook his head.
    ‘That’s all we wanted to know. We thought you might be able to help us.’ General R. fell back into his former silence.
    ‘Now, now, who would have thought—’ Warui started and then stopped. Wambui seemed fascinated more with the Bible than with General R.’s news.
    ‘A Bible! You might have thought his father a priest …’ she moaned. ‘Our son should have been a priest …’
    ‘He was a priest … a high priest of this our freedom.’ Warui said. Gikonyo laughed, uneasily. He was joined by Wambui and Lt Koina. Mugo and General R. did not laugh. Again the tension was broken. Gikonyo coughed and cleared his throat.
    ‘General, you almost made us forget why we came here,’ he announced, now the voice of a businessman who had no time for rituals. ‘But I am glad you came for this also concerns you. It is like this. The Movement and leaders of the village have thought it a good idea to honour the dead. On Independence Day we shall remember those from our village and ridges near, who lost their lives in the fight for freedom. We cannot let Kihika’s name die. He will live in our memory, and history will carry his name to our children in years to come.’ He paused and looked straight at Mugo and his next words addressed to Mugo were full of plain admiration. ‘I don’t want to go into details – but we all know the part you played in the movement. Your name and that of Kihika will ever be linked together. As the General here has said, you gave Kihika shelter without fear of dangerto your own life. You did for Thabai out here and in detention what Kihika did in the forest. We have therefore thought that on this important day, you should lead in the sacrifice and ceremonies to honour those who died that we might live. The elders will guide you in the details of the ritual. For you the main thing will be the speech. We are arranging a large meeting at Rung’ei Market around where Kihika’s body hung from a tree. You will make the main speech of the day.’
    Mugo stared at a pole opposite; he tried to grasp the sense of what Gikonyo had said. He had always found it difficult to make decisions. Recoiling as if by instinct from setting in motion a course of action whose consequences he could not determine before the start, he allowed himself to drift into things or be pushed into them by an uncanny demon; he rode on the wave of circumstance and lay against the crest, fearing but fascinated by fate. Something of that devilish fascination now seemed to light his eyes. His body was deathly still.
    ‘What do you say?’ Wambui asked slightly impatient with Mugo’s intense look. But Warui was fascinated by people’s eyes and he always said this of Mugo: He has a future, a great future. Shouldn’t I know? You can see it in his eyes. He now said:
    ‘You need not talk the whole day. I have seen many people ruin good speeches because they would talk till their mouths were drained of all saliva. A word to touch the hearts – that is all. Like the one you spoke that day.’
    ‘I do not understand,’ Mugo at last said.
    ‘We of Thabai want to honour our heroes. What’s difficult in that?’ Warui asked.
    ‘I know how you feel,’ Gikonyo said, ‘You want to be left alone. Remember this, however: it is not easy for any man in a community to be left alone, especially a man in your position. No, you don’t have to make up your mind now. But we would like to know the answer soon, December 12 is only four nights away.’
    Saying this, Gikonyo rose to leave. The others also stood up. Gikonyo hesitated a moment as if an undelivered thought lingered in his mind.
    ‘Another thing! You know the government, now that it is controlled by the Movement, will allow chiefs to be elected by the people. The branch here wants you to